Chuck vs the New Assignment
by sharpasamarble
Summary: Chuck's plans for a quiet birthday are interrupted by a change in the government's plans for him. Does not fit into any existing timeline or AU.
1. A Surprise on a Birthday

_Ed. Note - This story does not fit into any existing timeline of mine or anyone else's._

_I do not own Chuck; it owns me._

* * *

Light filtered through the blinds into the silence of the apartment. Lazily, Chuck peeked through slits in his eyes, trying to move as little as possible while ascertaining the time. Not that the time really mattered; he was slated to have the day off – from both his jobs.

Sensing some tightness in his lower back, he debated whether it was worth the effort for a stretch. He decided it was.

Tensing muscles in sequence, Chuck chased the tension from his body group by group. He collapsed back onto his bed with a sigh.

_Happy Birthday, Chuck_, he thought happily. He smacked his lips contentedly, debating whether to roll out of bed or just roll over.

A voice made the decision for him.

"'Bout damn time, Bartowski."

Chuck bolted upright. His fright was chased away by dismay. "Aw, Casey, c'mon. It's my birthday."

Casey, sitting on a chair in the corner, folded the newspaper he had been reading. "Happy birthday. Better?"

"Actually, no. You're starting to damage my calm."

Casey's eyes rolled. "Whatever. Get up. We're taking a little trip today."

"Trip?!" Images of a cell in a bunker immediately jumped into his mind. "Wait, I'm not…"

"Stop it. We're not taking you to a bunker."

"Not that you would tell me if you were."

Casey tilted his head to the side in acknowledgment of the truth of the statement. "Well, Walker would never let that happen."

The mention of the last name was enough to put Chuck into a tailspin. Sarah Walker was the ultra-talented agent who had been helping Casey to guard Chuck for the past year. She was as deadly as she was cunning; Chuck, for one, was glad she was on his side.

Chuck had also been lucky enough to see the more private sides of Sarah. Her talent as an agent was only matched by her beauty, both inside and out, even if she didn't always realize it.

He was hopelessly infatuated with her. While he had reason to hope she returned his feelings, her professionalism had kept their relationship virtually static since the night she cried on the helicopter pad. She had believed the two were being separated, which caused her to show her feelings for him. Sadly, she had carefully kept her emotions under control ever since.

Still, it was his birthday. _I'm allowed a wish … right?_

Completely distracted, Chuck didn't notice Casey walk over to the bed. He smacked Chuck on the side of the head with the rolled-up newspaper.

"Ouch! Damn it, Casey!"

"Get the lead out, Bartowski. We've got a plane to catch."

"What time is it?" Chuck asked.

"12:30."

"Jesus. What time did you get here?"

"8:30." Casey's eyes flared.

Chuck studied Casey, whose face registered barely controlled impatience. "You wanna leave this room."

"Damn right I do. Now get up!"

* * *

Chuck was showered, shaved, and out the door with a small bag in just under an hour. While Chuck got ready, Casey picked up two seats on the next flight to Vegas. Apparently, the two had seats reserved on the 1:00 pm flight, which made Casey grumble. What made him grumble even more was that the only two seats on the 3:30 flight were in first class.

"Pissing away the government's money," Chuck heard Casey complain under his breath as he drove the pair to the airport in the black Suburban.

Turning from his study of the cars whizzing past them on the highway, Chuck said, "If it matters, I do appreciate getting to sleep in. It's probably the nicest – only – thing the government's done for me in the past year."

Casey directed an amused expression at Chuck. "What, a contingent of two full-time agents to guard you so you could keep living in your little paradise wasn't enough?"

"Huh. Never thought of it quite like that."

"Of course you didn't. You're always too busy gaping at Walker to think about anything else."

Chuck's face betrayed his indignation. "I never gaped at Sarah."

"Please, I've lost count of the number of times you've needed to pick up your jaw off the ground. Your feelings for her are probably the worst kept secret in the CIA."

"Wha-a?!"

Casey amended, "OK, the worst kept secret among the handful of people who know you're the Intersect. Hell, even Carina knows."

Chuck felt cold comfort at the clarification. "Casey, for the last time, nothing has happened between us."

"I know that. That doesn't make it any less fun to needle you about it."

Chuck dropped into a stony silence. It was a long time before he spoke to Casey again.

"Casey?"

"Yeah?"

"In all seriousness, thank you for protecting me."

Casey just grunted, trying to act surly. Chuck wasn't buying it; he'd been around Casey long enough to figure out a few of his tells.

"So why are we going to Vegas, anyway? Surprise birthday party? Long overdue vacation? Mafia members gone wild?"

"Sorry, Bartowski: no briefing until we catch up with Agent Walker. While you were snoozing, she headed to Vegas to lay the groundwork. She'll give us a full briefing tonight."

* * *

Sarah walked into a stylish boutique. The plans to go to Vegas had come upon the team quickly, giving her little time to adequately prepare for what lay ahead. However, the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace should have everything she would need.

"Ah, Ms. Walker," a friendly store clerk gushed as he floated across the store towards you. "It has been far too long."

"Jerome," Sarah said fondly. "It certainly has."

The man sauntered up and took both of Sarah's hands, holding them wide to admire her. "Look at you! You're positively glowing. It must be a man. Am I right? Tell me I'm right."

She smiled a bit bashfully. "Yes, you're right. There's a man."

Jerome beamed delightedly back at her. "Wonderful. Wonderful! Come, I take it you need something to make his eyes pop out of his head?"

Sarah just nodded, afraid of what her voice might do if she spoke any more.

Jerome excitedly led her into the depths of the store, babbling about the various options and how she would look good in anything. She barely heard him; instead, she thought to herself, _Tonight, everything is going to change for Chuck. For us._

She didn't think her grin could have possibly grown any bigger … but it did, if only until another thought entered her head.

_Hopefully for the better._


	2. What Happens in Vegas

Chuck hadn't flown very often during his life. Twice his family had gone on vacations that had required plane travel, but after the disastrous split between his parents, there had never been an occasion for him to fly. His trips to Stanford were by car, and even as an agent, the closest thing to a trip was a thankfully short ride in a helicopter.

He found himself enjoying first class. The flight attendants were polite and friendly, the seats were comfortable, and there was plenty of room to accommodate his long legs.

As he sipped his Coke, he noted that Casey looked pensive in the seat next to him. Casey had marked his page in his copy of the book _1776_ with a cocktail napkin; he was blankly gazing at the bulkhead, consumed by his thoughts as he sipped a scotch, neat.

"Wow, you seem focused on something," Chuck offered. He didn't really believe he would be able to draw Casey into a conversation, so he was pleasantly surprised when Casey responded.

"Just trying to get my head around Vegas," Casey said.

"What, we have a difficult assignment?"

"Not difficult. Different. You've got a big part to play in this one; my part is pretty darn small."

"Big part, huh?" Chuck said, hoping to pry a bit more information out of Casey.

For the briefest of moments, Casey looked like he wanted to say more, but decided against it. He opened his book and went back to his reading.

Chuck was intrigued by the tidbit, especially since Casey was acting a bit strangely. However, the NSA agent apparently wasn't going to elaborate. Chuck allowed the stoic man to continue his reading, knowing it was futile to try to get him to talk when he didn't want to talk.

Chuck stared out the window at the fluffy clouds as he wondered what lay in store for the team in Vegas.

* * *

The plane touched down just after its scheduled arrival time.

With only their carry-on bags to tote, the two quickly made their way out of the airport. Bypassing the enormous line of people waiting for taxicabs, Casey made his way to a different area where he hired a black sedan. They dropped their bags into the trunk and were quickly whisked away.

After a ride through a long, low tunnel, the car climbed onto a higher section of freeway, paralleling the monstrous hotels along the Strip.

Chuck had never really understood what the fuss about Vegas was: he wasn't much of a gambler or a partier. However, he was beginning to understand as the sheer size and ridiculous opulence of the various casino hotels dominated the skyline through his window. "Whoa," Chuck whispered.

"What's that?" Casey asked, reading his book in the other seat.

Chuck stared at Casey. "How the hell can you read in the back of a car?! Don't you get carsick?"

Without looking up, Casey responded, "Let's just say I've been through enough things far more likely to make me motion-sick for a little reading in a car to bother me."

"Fair enough." Chuck went back to his quiet contemplation of the enormity of the Las Vegas skyline.

* * *

The car slowed down at the entrance to Caesar's Palace. Before Chuck could reach for the door handle, a valet opened it for him.

The first-class treatment was definitely something Chuck could get used to.

The two walked in. Casey walked into the nearly empty VIP check-in line. "Been here before?" Chuck asked a bit whimsically.

"Not really, but it's not exactly hard to get agents on the VIP lists. Besides, you should know exactly how often I've been here in the past year." He walked up and started speaking to one of the desk agents.

Chuck contemplated Casey's words as the agent checked in. That was true; Casey had been guarding Chuck for a year solid with no breaks of any kind. He laughed out loud at some of the things Casey had to endure over the surveillance. Chuck had resented the intrusion into his life, but all things considered, it really hadn't been that bad.

Casey gave the clerk a friendly smile that he reserved for the non-agents in his world as he finished checking in. With a final smile, Casey turned and wordlessly directed Chuck through the bright lights and cheery noises of the slot machines. As they walked, Chuck couldn't resist a barb of his own.

"So, Casey, if you were going to a deserted island, what sandwich would you…"

Casey stopped dead in his tracks and pivoted to face Chuck. "So help me God, Bartowski, if you finish that sentence, I will wrap your mouth around the payoff chute of a slot machine and pull the lever until you start crapping quarters." With a menacing glare, Casey turned and resumed his search for their bank of elevators.

Chuck only smiled. Casey really hadn't been to Vegas much; even Chuck knew the machines no longer gave out quarters for the most part – or maybe Casey thought Chuck wouldn't know that. Either way, Chuck was too amused to say anything.

* * *

Chuck stared out of the window of their hotel. Casey had arranged for a decent-sized room with a pair of double beds, but the room itself didn't seem particularly nice … except for the view. Their room faced out onto the Strip. Chuck took in the glowing lights in the darkness outside with something akin to awe.

Even with the view, Chuck was getting a bit restless. Except for a trip down to the Forum Shops to pick up tuxes for each of them ("Just in case," Casey had said with his usual stoniness), the two had spent all their time in the room. Chuck had quickly ascertained that the room service and the TV channel selection was largely geared towards forcing people out of their rooms and into the casinos, so he chose to spend his time staring at the lights, the buildings, and throngs of people far below.

He now realized why Casey had brought a book, which Casey was currently reading from a chair in the corner of the room opposite the door. He wished Casey would have made the same suggestion to him when he was hastily packing his carry-on bag. He didn't really even have any clothes to change into; he was still wearing the same black pinstriped button-down, the untucked tails hanging over his beat up blue jeans.

There was a series of four knocks on the door. Chuck turned around, expecting Casey to want to answer it. Casey continued to read his book.

After a pause, two more knocks came, followed by another pause and one last knock.

"You mind getting that, Bartowski?" Casey asked, continuing to read.

The code knock and Casey's casualness could only mean one thing: Sarah_._ His heart beat a little faster and the slightest hint of sweat appeared on his palms as he walked across the room.

She still had that affect on him.

Chuck opened the door. Sarah stood there, wearing a flirty blue top with small buttons and a form-fitting pair of jeans. An oversized black fabric purse was slung over one shoulder.

As Chuck answered the door, she stopped playing with her fingers. Most of the tightness fled from her face when she saw him, chased away by a genuine smile and a slight widening of her bright blue eyes.

His face lit up when he saw her. "Hey, Sarah."

Her smile brightened as well. "Hi, Chuck. Glad you made it."

Chuck and Sarah stood there sharing a slightly awkward moment. A bit of tension was there, but that wasn't unusual. Both of them had their moments where their feelings welled to the surface, and in this foreign setting, things felt somehow … different … to Chuck. He couldn't put his finger on why.

"So, are you going to come in?" Chuck finally asked, sliding to the side to allow her room to pass.

"Actually, no. Take a walk with me."

Chuck was puzzled. "What, no briefing?"

"I'll brief you as we walk."

He looked back at Casey. Sensing Chuck's eyes on him, he gave a wave without looking up. Even his wave seemed somehow sardonic.

Chuck shrugged. "OK. See you later, Casey." He pulled the door shut as he left the room.

As they started walking down the hall, Chuck asked, "So, what's our cover?"

She gave him a grin. "Same as always. Boyfriend-girlfriend, only now we're on vacation."

It certainly didn't seem the same as always. Something about the way she said "boyfriend-girlfriend" made his throat feel a bit dry. Left with a choice between nervousness and playing the comment off, he chose the latter. "Oh, and you're letting your boyfriend stay with Casey? Who is he anyway, my obnoxious older brother?"

"Well, play your cards right, and who knows what might happen. This is Vegas after all."

He was a bit taken aback at the overt flirting from Sarah; maybe Las Vegas was affecting her the same way it was affecting him: Los Angeles seemed a long, long way away.

Chuck enjoyed the give-and-take with Sarah as they rode down the elevator. Their banter became more familiar and natural as they lost themselves in the fantasy world that was Las Vegas.

* * *

Sarah and Chuck walked south along the Strip. Chuck gaped openly at the size and excess of the casinos and hotels. He had seen it from the plane, from the car, and from the window of his room, but it was somehow more real out along Las Vegas Boulevard.

"It's something else, isn't it," offered Sarah, noticing Chuck's expression.

"It certainly is. Makes me wonder if I need to find a way to get out of L.A. more often."

"You know, I keep forgetting that you've never traveled much."

"Well, I always wanted to. We just never had the money, and after Stanford…" He trailed off and sighed. Distracted by the thought, he missed Sarah's understanding smile.

"C'mon," she said, "there's something you need to see." She playfully linked her arm with his and guided him a little more quickly down the sidewalk.

He wasn't about to argue the arm linked with his. He wanted to ask where they were going, but instead chose to remain silent, allowing himself the illusion that he and Sarah were something more than they were. It was his birthday, after all.

After a few minutes, Sarah guided him to the stone railing in front of a water-filled basin in front of a hotel. "What's this?" he asked, trying to keep the sadness out of his voice as she withdrew her arm from his and leaned on the railing.

"This is the Bellagio, and these are the hotel's famous fountains. Every fifteen minutes there's a show where the plumes of water shoot high into the air, choreographed to music."

"Sounds pretty cool." He joined her, leaning on the railing, probably a bit closer than was appropriate.

She didn't seem to mind. "It is. I love this fountain. The only better fountain is the Trevi Fountain in Rome. That's probably my favorite place in the world; I could stare at that fountain all day." Her voice became soft and wistful towards the end.

Chuck glanced around; they were isolated enough from other people to talk freely. "Careful, Agent Walker," he ribbed. "You're getting mighty close to talking about something real."

He thought he noticed a bit of conflict in her eyes, but quickly decided he was mistaken. "Well, then, maybe I should talk about the next assignment instead."

"You mean mission, right?"

"No, I mean assignment. Things have changed, Chuck, and consequently our assignments are changing."

"I don't understand."

"I'm not saying this well, I know." She seemed to have trouble taking in enough air, as if her chest had tightened. "Chuck, the leaders of Fulcrum have been apprehended."

"What?! That's terrific!"

"It is. Bryce was able to track down a cell and capture a list of the organization leaders about a week ago. Yesterday, they were all simultaneously arrested so that none of them had a chance to escape.

"Bryce was also able to capture a list of cell activation codes and methods of contact. The cells will be given bogus missions, one by one, causing them to walk into traps. There are seven domestic cells and three international; they should all be captured within the month."

"Wow. Go, Bryce," he said. It was nice that Bryce finally did something that made his life better. Unless …

"Because of this, the DoD believes that you are no longer in any significant danger. That means your security detail is changing.

The implications were obvious. If the security detail was changing… _Oh, no! Sarah!_

She continued, either because of or in spite of his expression; he couldn't tell. "You still hold a lot of powerful intelligence inside your head. That is information that, in the wrong hands, would still be potentially devastating to the US government."

Chuck began to sweat. "So I'm still dangerous." He swallowed hard, trying to figure it all out. _Say you're staying. Please just say you're staying._

"You also are the only person we know capable of assimilating the body of the Intersect knowledge and recalling it in any form. That makes you valuable, even after the new Intersect is up-and-running. You'll just be re-tasked."

"Wait a minute: 're-tasked'? Sarah, I'm not even an agent. How can I be…"

Her face became a bit tense as she tried to reign in Chuck's emotions; he had to admit they were threatening to get out of control. "We're asking that you continue to serve your country, Chuck. You're still a key to figuring out how to best use the Intersect, which could be a huge breakthrough for the DoD."

"So, am I heading for a lab in a faceless building or an underground bunker?"

"You have options. You can stay above ground. But there are … conditions."

He sighed. There always was a catch. "Like what?"

"Well, you need to make a decision tonight. Option one is that we assign a plainclothes agent on a rotating basis to watch you. I would be the first agent on the assignment. We would establish you in a new home and carry on our cover relationship. About a month before I am scheduled to leave, we would break up, and we would find a way to integrate my replacement into your life."

Chuck's heart sank; he barely heard half the details. Rotating basis? Sarah would leave?! Despite how carefully Sarah had framed it, that wasn't much of an option. At first, he tried to hide his eyes; he didn't want Sarah to see how much the very thought of her leaving wounded him.

What could option two be? It had to be better. Sarah had to be staying. He couldn't bear the thought of her leaving; they might as well shove him into a bunker under the Vegas sand if that were the case.

He studied her face: she couldn't meet his eyes. That was all the confirmation he needed. He expected the worst with the next option.

There was no sense in putting it off. His voice completely flat, he despondently asked, "What's option two?"

She gathered herself, struggling to look at him. Chuck felt like he had prepared himself for the inevitable bad news, but he found that he couldn't meet her eyes either.

Her eyes bright and glistening, she took a deep breath. After a long moment, she forced out, "Option two is that we get married. Tonight."

His eyes shot up as he bit back the protest he had prepared. It took him a moment to process what she was saying. Had he heard her right? "Wait, what?!"

She kept her eyes to his side as she continued, "We would get married tonight. I would be permanently assigned to your protection detail until such time the DoD deemed such protection was no longer warranted. We would legally be husband and wife. We would live together and maintain our cover indefinitely."

At the very end, she nervously cocked her head to the side and looked at Chuck. She seemed to be waiting for an answer.

Chuck was utterly confused by the conflict between her choice of words and the emotion on her face. She was speaking of this marriage like she was reading from a manual, but her expression revealed something else. "Sarah, I don't understand. 'Maintain our cover indefinitely'?" He felt anger rising within him. An indefinite cover?! How could she possibly think he would be OK with that?

Suddenly, something in the way she looked at him brought him a moment of clarity. He realized what she was trying to say, what she was struggling to do. The anger dissipated, replaced by a feeling of hope and nervousness unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Sarah was reaching into her oversized purse, obviously glad to have a reason to look elsewhere. "Sorry, the cover that we're not agents, not … the other thing. I know it's not easy to get your head around, but it's all explained in these packets." She pulled out a pair of large manila envelopes, both approximately the same size, and eagerly held them out as if they would answer all his questions. "The CIA has drafted agreements for both assignments; all you have to do is read through them and …"

He carefully took her by a forearm to get her attention, deliberately avoiding the envelope. "No, Sarah, I don't understand. What 'other thing'?"

Her almost pained expression conveyed her discomfort; she twisted slightly in his grip. "The … thing! The thing between us. Chuck, you know…" She looked desperately at him, seeking for him to understand.

He knew what she was trying to do; she just needed a little help. Very softly, Chuck said, "I'm sorry, Agent Walker, but I'll need a better explanation before I can render my decision." He smiled warmly at her as he gently stroked her other forearm with his other hand.

She took another long moment before she reacted. Surrendering, the envelopes fell to the ground; she instead took his hands in hers. Her slightly cold hands held onto his with a vice-like grip, as if she were afraid she would collapse without his support. Still, she struggled to look directly at him.

"Sarah?" he gently prompted.

Strengthened by his touch and the understanding in his voice, she took a deep, steadying breath. She tried to look at him as best she could; she succeeded in maintaining eye contact, even if a pair of tears did escape to flee down her cheeks.

Her voice laden with emotion, she finally spoke to him from her heart. "Chuck, you've known how I've felt about you all along. You've always been able to see right through me; it was always my actions that didn't match up. Somehow, you knew me better than I did; you always saw things more clearly than I did. I pushed aside my feelings because, well, because that's what agents do. Because I needed to protect you, and I couldn't be distracted by the man I was protecting.

She gained momentum as she continued; her words began to flood out of her as if a dam had broken. "You are so different than the people in my world. You're kind and you're caring and you're honest. You're smarter than almost anyone else I know, yet you're utterly humble about it … and so patient with those who aren't as intelligent as you. You can always make me laugh … and you're the only man who can make me cry. That's only because I care for you so much."

"I don't know if I really am the person you see when you look at me … but I want to know. If you'll have me."

A bit of her desperation returned to her face as he didn't respond immediately. "Please, Chuck. Will you marry me?"

Chuck stood there for a long moment, savoring every word. He had waited so long to hear them.

He wasn't going to make her wait nearly as long for his response; a huge smile brightened his face. "Was that so hard?" he asked ironically.

Immediately understanding his implied answer, she responded, "You have no idea."

She went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He encircled her in his arms and pressed her close, his lips seeking hers. The pair embraced, pressing their bodies and lips together.

Behind them, the Bellagio fountain show began. Music swelled behind them as "My Heart Will Go On" accompanied the backlit fountain plumes arcing high into the air.

Well into the second verse of the song, the pair separated slowly, their hands gently caressing each other as they parted. Their expressions remained utterly serious in the wake of the kiss at first; gradually, goofy grins chased away any hint of seriousness as their faces lit up with happiness.

"I love you, Sarah," Chuck said tenderly, running a finger along the lines of her tears, drying her cheeks. "I loved you the first day I saw you."

With a voice heavy with emotion, Sarah responded, "And I love you, Chuck." She straightened his shirt collar playfully, running a hand along his chest and shoulder when it was arranged to her satisfaction. "It just took me a little longer to figure that out."

The two of them simply stared at one another for a long moment, their fingers gently intertwined as they savored the moment.

Chuck suddenly let out a small laugh; his heart was bursting with happiness, and his only choices were to laugh or explode. Sarah quickly shared in the laugh, and the two embraced, holding each other fiercely as they laughed away the emotion that overflowed from their hearts.

As their laughter faded, Chuck allowed himself to let her go. He looked at the fountains as if noticing them for the first time. "You know, I've always hated Celine Dion. Now the theme to _Titanic_ is going to chase us around the rest of our lives."

Sarah's face instantly became serious. She hit him. "What, you were listening to the music?!"

Taken aback, Chuck stuttered, "Well, no, I just …"

He suddenly figured out Sarah was kidding. She burst into laughter; he joined her. It felt good. It felt … normal.

She moved back towards him, reaching behind him to fold her hands behind his neck. With a serious look, she moved her mouth towards his as she said, "I think I have a solution for this little dilemma…"

She kissed him again, more tenderly than before, but just as passionately. He gladly put himself into her hands, as he had so many times before.

The pair stood in front of the fountain, kissing, through the end of the first show, the intermission, and well into the next show, where a new song accompanied the bursts of water in the fountain.

Anyone who asked learned that "Fly Me to the Moon" by Frank Sinatra was the song that played in the background as the two became engaged at the Bellagio fountains.


End file.
